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by Sans_Virtuosity



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Daily Writing Practice, F/M, Just siblings interacting, Not Beta Read, Other, Portia's PoV, Teen for language and alcohol consumption, The Rowdy Raven, also the apprentice is referred to with female pronouns but isn't really described, mostly because I haven't settled on a canon design for her yet, shout-out to the barkeep who has to deal with Julian making the Raven his usual haunt, since it's Portia's PoV expect a lot of Julian being referred to as Ilya, unedited, with some side Julian/MC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 07:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12476892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sans_Virtuosity/pseuds/Sans_Virtuosity
Summary: Portia's on a quest to find a specific bottle of liquor, and the directions she's given lead her to The Rowdy Raven.She runs into her brother, of all people, and he lets her in on a little secret.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> “The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” - Maya Angelou

* * *

 

Being a port town, the streets of Vesuvia at night were not the safest. Even though Portia was sure she could steal a company of royal guards from the palace as escort if she needed, she preferred to do her errands quickly and unburdened. Guards were conspicuous, and vendors were less likely to cut you a deal if they thought you were trying to intimidate them. So, armed with nothing but a pair of gardening shears for defense, she made her way through some of the shadier back streets in search of a specific drink.

The magician brought a bottle of the unusual liquor back with them the last time they went out into town, and Nadia had fallen in love with the unique flavor and demanded that she find another bottle for her own collection. But the magician has been too busy to go out and buy another bottle herself, so she wrote down the directions to the tavern where she bought the original and handed the job off to Portia.

It wasn’t that she minded being out this late, but the darker it got, the smaller the streets felt. Like the stone walls of the houses that loomed precariously along the cobblestones were finally giving in to gravity and sliding ever closer to one another. Vesuvia was a town built on top of itself over and over again, and with every new floor tacked on to each building, the more it felt like the city was only standing by the sheer force of the buildings being pressed so closely to one another.

Portia came around a bend in the road, and was immediately assaulted with the sound of off-key piano music coming from a dingy building that looked particularly like you could sneeze it apart without much trouble. There was a lamp hanging just outside of its main window, and Portia used it to double-check her directions.

There was a crude drawing of the city streets in the center of the page, and underneath it were the words: _Left, right, down the corridor, left, straight past the fountain, right, Rowdy Raven._

Easy.

She looked up at the sign, which luckily sported a painting of the exact bird she'd hoped to see. She shoved the directions to the bottom of her satchel, figuring she wouldn’t need them until it was time to return home, and turned to face the tavern. The music was still flowing freely, this time in a slightly better tone. It was some jaunty tune that was just common enough that she’d definitely heard it before.

She pushed the door open with slight difficulty. The wood stuck to the frame oddly, and it reminded her of her own front door at home that stuck because of her poor lacquer job. Despite the dingy exterior, the tavern itself was very homey, the candlelight casting the place in a soft orange glow. The main bar was directly ahead of her, and there were several rooms that shot off of the entrance that held booths and tables of all sorts. It was a patchwork place, and the patrons themselves reflected the sentiment. Tired field workers and sailors, old women and grocers, murderers and thieves alike all sat at the tables from where she could see.

But she wasn’t here for company. She needed to find that liquor.

Portia made her way to the bar, and confidently sat at one of the stools that lined the counter. The barkeep held up a finger, signaling that he’d get to her in a moment, and ducked behind the counter. There were rows upon rows of bottles lining the wall behind the counter, but not every bottle held liquid that looked particularly… ingestible. Were those fermenting _coins_?

There was a crash from the room flanking her to the right, and the music ended abruptly. The barkeep peeked out from behind the bar, but ultimately just rolled his eyes and went back to whatever he was doing. Portia leaned over, trying to get a better look into the room. The door frame was partially obscuring whoever or whatever caused the crash, but she could hear them swearing from here. Whoever she was, she cursed like a sailor. The bawdy language almost made Portia want to buy her a drink on principle.

“No, don’t worry darling, I’ll take care of it.” She heard a familiar male voice say from the room, “Don’t stop your performance on our account, sir. You’re doing lovely.”

The piano player began again, this time a new piece entirely. The conversations in the other room started up again, and she lost the familiar voice in the crowd.

But for a moment, she swore it sounded just like-

“Pasha?”

“Ilya!”

To her surprise, her brother rounded the corner, balancing a collection of glass shards in a half-broken whiskey glass. He looked around, and a guilty look crossed his face. He held up the broken glass in greeting, as though he were toasting her. She couldn’t hold in the giddy laugh that escaped her. So this was where this idiot was hiding.

“I, uh. Fancy meeting you here.” He said, placing the glass on the bar. A hand came up from behind the bar and spirited it away without a word. Ilya leaned on the counter, a casual smile creeping up onto his face. “Needed a drink, did you? The palace will do that to you, I hear.”

Portia shook her head and clapped her brother hard on the shoulder, sending him staggering towards the counter. He recovered quickly enough, but by his reaction, she was sure he was extremely drunk.

“I’m not here for me, but if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind.” Ilya grinned, and opened his mouth to agree, but she continued, “In exchange, you need to tell me what you’ve been up to all this time. I’ve been worried out of my mind knowing you’ve been sneaking around town for who-knows-how-long.”

His grin faltered, and he seemed to deliberate it for a minute, but sighed and nodded. “Alright, you win. But you need to be willing to keep a secret,” he held up a gloved finger to his lips, “because I might be borrowing something from the palace that I’m not supposed to have.”

Portia nodded, and before she could say anything, the barkeep slid three whiskeys Ilya’s way. Ilya dropped a handful of coins on the counter before taking two of the drinks and nodding at the third for Portia to grab. He nodded again towards the room he came from, and Portia stood up to follow him in. He lead her through the room, which faintly smelled like smoke, to a booth in the back, closest to the stairs to the second floor. Just far enough away from the piano player to be able to hold an actual conversation without yelling. A wise choice.

Portia gasped when she saw that there was already someone sitting there, nervously playing with a hand towel that was soaked with some kind of amber liquid. Nadia’s magician.

She turned to her brother, eyebrow raised. He just answered by placing the drinks on the table, and smoothly sliding into the booth next to the magician. The magician finally looked up from the table, and was about to say something to Ilya before she noticed Portia standing there.

“Oh gods,” she coughed into her hand nervously, “Portia. You can’t tell Nadia I’m here; She’ll have me flayed alive.”

Portia slid into the seat opposite them, and sipped on her drink, unsure of what to say. She had no idea that the magician was meeting with her brother in secret like this. It explained a lot about her hesitance to openly condemn her brother in the presence of the court. In fact, Portia was sure she’d _never_ heard the magician speak a bad word about the ‘treasonous Doctor Julian’. It was… interesting information.

“She swore herself to secrecy.” Ilya said, leaning over to tuck the magician’s hair behind her ear.

_Very interesting._

“I swore no such thing. You didn’t give me a chance to say anything, really.” Portia said, rolling her eyes. Ilya looked shocked, like he hadn’t actually noticed, and guiltily avoided the magician’s unamused gaze. “But Ilya, what are you doing here? The guards patrol not even two streets down. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

He lifted his glass to his lips, but put it back down without taking a sip. “There’s no safer place in town than the Raven. See that beautiful young man right there?” he gestured to a large bird that perched up in the rafters of the building that she hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out, and continued, “He hates the guard. Don’t ask me why, but whenever they get near the shop, he completely loses his mind. It’s a sight to behold, truly.”

“Not very easy on the ears, though.” The magician chimed in, her earlier nervousness gone. She must trust Portia enough to believe that she wouldn’t sell her out to Nadia. It was flattering, in a way. She could see why Ilya would be fond of her.

“There’s so much I want to ask you, but I don’t have much time. I’m actually running an errand-” she trailed off, a realization hitting her smack in the face, “Wait. You,” she narrowed her eyes at the magician, whose own eyes widened under the scrutiny, “If you’ve been sneaking off here, why didn’t you just grab the liquor yourself?”

Ilya turned to the magician, brows furrowed, clearly unaware of the situation. To Portia’s surprise, the magician swore with vitriol, and gave her an apologetic look.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve been meaning to do that every time I come here. _Somebody_ ,” She briefly glanced Ilya’s way, and then turned her gaze back to Portia. “Keeps distracting me, and I end up forgetting why I came in the first place. Also, I might have maybe hoped you would run into Julian if you came here yourself. I knew you’d want to talk to him if you knew where he was.”

“Crafty witch.” Ilya said fondly, under his breath.

“Well, you’d better believe I’ll be back here.” She took a deep swig of her drink, and fixed Ilya with a hard stare, “Especially now that I know you’ve been ‘borrowing’ Nadia’s favorite magician. Nadia would kill you if she knew. The least I could do is make sure you’re not… misusing her.”

The magician laughed, and Ilya colored.

Gross.

“I’m a perfect gentleman.” He whispered unconvincingly, not looking at anything or anyone in particular.

_Really gross._

“Well,” Portia said, desperately slamming back the rest of her drink. “I really need to get this errand done before _I_ forget about it. And you,” she gestured at the magician who was smiling her way, oblivious to Portia’s discomfort, “Make sure you get back alright. I’ll feel responsible if you go missing along the way.”

She meant it with genuine concern for her well-being, of course, but the looks that crossed both their faces were dark, and very far away. Had something happened? It was probably better not to press. They were both adults, and could take care of themselves. They’d gotten this far on their own, after all.

She sighed and patted her satchel before standing up, making sure everything was still there. You never knew in taverns like these. It was best to be safe.

Satisfied that everything was still in her possession, she readied herself to leave. Ilya stood up from the booth, and awkwardly opened his arms to her. She pulled him into a tight hug, nearly toppling him over. He was so tall, and smelled like the incense that the magician liked to burn in her room. It was both familiar and alien at the same time. How long had it been since they’d hugged like this?

Too many years.

“It was good seeing you, Pasha.” He said, pulling back to see her face, his hands sliding up to grip her arms. He brought her to an arms-length away and gave her a brief glance-over, and in that moment he looked very much like a doctor. She couldn’t hold back the swell of pride at seeing it. He nodded, apparently satisfied, and then clapped her on the shoulder. “Definitely come back. I’d be glad to see you any time. Just be smart about it.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Portia.” The magician added, lifting her hand in farewell. Portia waved back.

“Take care, brother. Or else.”

Ilya swept a bow and nearly stumbled over, again betraying his drunkenness. “Of course.”

It wasn’t very convincing. But then again, when was he ever?

Portia waved the two off, and returned to the bar. She picked up her liquor, and the barkeep told her it was already paid for. She remembered the coins that Ilya dropped off earlier. More than necessary for three drinks and a broken glass. She found herself cursing Ilya just as often as she felt grateful for his return into her life. She hoped more than anything that the magician could prove her brother’s innocence and free them all from the looming threat of execution that even now left her cold.

She would see herself to the gallows before she would ever let Ilya disappear again.

She’d burn the directions to the Rowdy Raven when she returned home, and to anyone but the magician, pretend like she’d never even seen the place.

And if Nadia asked what took her so long, she was just off seeing some family.

 

* * *

 


End file.
